


All the Way (to the Milky Way)

by FreshBrains



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Age Difference, Banter, Blow Jobs, Community: rounds_of_kink, Facials, Friends With Benefits, Hotel Sex, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, POV Lando, Pre-Star Wars: A New Hope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 11:33:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8665984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshBrains/pseuds/FreshBrains
Summary: “You’re thinking too loud,” Han says, leaning back on the bed, hands braced behind him. He licks his lips before giving Lando one of those crooked, crinkle-eyed smiles that makes him shiver, it’s so sweet and dirty. “We’ve got a clean bed, a ‘fresher, and two days of lying low. You want to spend it thinking, or you want to spend it screwing me?”





	

**Author's Note:**

> For the LJ Rounds of Kink Round 26/Amnesty Round 11 prompt: _Any, any, ruby red, oral fixation or fetishization_.
> 
> That title is so bad. I apologize. I don't write blow jobs a whole lot and I just _had_ to go for it.

“This rock isn’t what is used to be,” Lando says breathlessly, clicking the lock on the inn door shut. “A good room at an inn might be three _wupiupi_ max, and that’s if you _don’t_ negotiate.”

“Yeah, well, this isn’t the market on Tatooine,” Han says, tossing his jacket onto the sleeping couch that was jammed up against the shiny durasteel wall. “This is _Coruscant_ , buddy. You can’t get a drop of brandy for three _wupiupi_.”

“Kids these days,” Lando says, shooting Han a lecherous smile. He’s only five Standard years older than Han, but he never lets his friend forget it. “Let me tell you. This planet used to be the place to be. Parties that lasted for days, a new club opening every night. Now it feels like…” he trails off, leaning heavily against the door. His gaze wanders to the transparisteel window that stretches from floor to ceiling, giving them a wide view of Coruscant’s southern entertainment district. “I guess it’s not so bad after all.”

Han pauses from where he’s getting undressed, fingers idly playing with the buttons of his shirt. “I’d kill for a view like this every night,” he says, flopping back onto the couch. He kicks his boots off and under a chair. Nighttime is fast approaching, and the entire city is still lit up in red, green, and blue lights, the parties alive despite Lando’s claim of a dead district. Cars and speeders fly through the air across the skyline, and all of the skyways are buzzing are nightlife.

Lando turns back to Han, smiling at him in the low light. This is by far their ritziest stop in as long as he can remember. They’ve only been traveling (or, in less polite terms, smuggling—or, in even less polite terms, _carousing_ ) together for a few months, Chewie and an old beat-up GNK droid in tow, and most of their pick-ups have been on backwater swamps and sandy dirtballs, places people go when nowhere else will welcome them. Coruscant is risky—it’s all politics, this place, and Lando’s never been much for folks with pockets full of credits who talk way too much and do way too little.

“You’re thinking too loud,” Han says, leaning back on the bed, hands braced behind him. He licks his lips before giving Lando one of those crooked, crinkle-eyed smiles that makes him shiver, it’s so sweet and dirty. “We’ve got a clean bed, a ‘fresher, and two days of lying low. You want to spend it thinking, or you want to spend it screwing me?”

“Tempting,” Lando says, settling in for a tease. He likes nothing more than riling this kid up—Han’s too lazy to have much of a temper, but he offends easily, his indignant expressions too good to pass up. He’s always been the type who hates seeking approval but lives to impress—an interesting combination, but a fun one nonetheless. “How about you finish taking those dirty rags off while I fix us drinks?”

Han makes a noise of dissent, but immediately sets to stripping off his shirt and unbuttoning his pants. Lando busies himself with the bar cart. He hasn’t had a drink anywhere but in a cantina in years, and even though the inn is going to charge them a criminal amount of credits for the alcohol, they have Corellian brandy, and Lando’s not going to deny Han such a luxury. He sloshes the strong-smelling liquid into two tumblers. In the transparisteel reflection, Lando can see Han shifting restlessly on the sleeping couch, naked and squirming and too fucking perfect to be real.

He smiles down into the drinks, stirring them with a complimentary spoon emblazoned with the inn’s name— _The Queen Shireen_. He has no clue who the queen was, or what planet she ruled over, or if she was even a _real_ queen, but she must’ve been important to have a whole inn named after her. He needs to start cracking open some files on his reader more.

“Are you working a still over there? Come _on_ ,” Han says, a whine edging into his voice. And because he’s a dirty bastard, Lando feels his cock twitch in his pants. It’s not like Han hasn’t done his own fair share of teasing before.

Lando lifts his drink to his lips, taking a small sip. It’s good stuff—probably watered down to save a few credits, but sweet and rich nonetheless. With his other hand, his snaps open the button fly on his pants, rubbing his half-hard cock with the flat of his palm. He knows Han can see his arm move, the unmistakable jerk of his elbow, and hears the kid whine low in his throat.

Then he laughs because he’s got a young, wild smuggler gagging to suck his cock in a Coruscant hotel room and life has never been much better.

He licks his lips, chasing away the sweet sting of the liquor, and sets the glass on the bar cart before turning around. “Open that mouth for me,” he says with a smirk, striding confidently towards the couch. “Show me you’re ready.”

As if Lando was using some fancy Force-trick on him, Han’s eyes glaze over and his mouth falls open, lips lush and parted as he stares at Lando’s cock. But it’s no trick—it’s just Lando. He rubs his thumb over the softness of Han’s bottom lip. “Look at me, sweetling,” he says, voice a low purr.

Han’s face goes bright red, but he obeys, eyes slanting up. He looks like an obedient little felinx on the couch, hands on his knees, back arched, mouth open wide, so unlike the cocky sonofabitch who shakes apart whole star systems just for a laugh. His hand comes up to wrap around the base of Lando’s cock, but Lando makes a noise of dissent, swatting him away. “Not tonight. This is a pleasure city, and I want my pleasure from that mouth, and _only_ from that mouth.”

“Bossy,” Han says, those red lips molding nicely around the word. “Bossy and _picky_.” But he drops his hands back to his knees, knuckles already white where he’s clenching them against his skin. “Is that how we’re going to play tonight?”

“I think you know that answer to that,” Lando says, and Han just grins all wicked and crooked up at him before pressing a sloppy, tongue-filled kiss to the side of Lando’s cock. Lando swears, fisting a handful of Han’s dark hair—not pulling or guiding, just _holding_.

“You think you have all the power,” Han murmurs, lathing his tongue along Lando’s cock from root to tip. There’s probably more to his little speech, but he chooses to end the sentence with a slurping punctuation, tongue curling around the head. He flashes Lando another glance and _winks_ , actually winks, before hollowing his cheeks and taking Lando’s whole cock into his mouth.

Lando wishes for a second that he was sitting for this. His legs turn into quicksand, whole body going syrupy under Han’s hot mouth. But then he wouldn’t be able to see their reflection across the room, Han’s dark head bobbing as he takes Lando into his throat, back arched, a string of spit slinking down between their bodies. It makes Lando groan, makes him place a firm hand on the back of Han’s neck and just _stare_.

Han pulls off for a moment with an obscene noise. “So, when you said no hands,” he says, swollen bottom lip grazing the underside of Lando’s cock, “did you mean just on _you_ , or—“

“I meant _no hands_ ,” Lando says with a laugh, but unlike Han, he doesn’t laugh wicked—he laughs because he loves his life. “Don’t worry, handsome, I’ll take care of you.” He can see it already—he’ll slick three fingers up with some of that miracle stuff he got from a Twi’lek girl on one of Hutt’s moons and set Han into a frenzy without even touching his cock. Han will be pliant and sweet by morning, curled up in Lando’s arms, mouth ruby-red and swollen, eyes adoring.

Then they’ll go make a few mistakes, get into a few more scrapes, and maybe Lando will spend every day tearing apart the galaxy with this adorable asshole.

“You’re insulting me,” Han says. “Pay attention.” He takes Lando to the root, throat bobbing around the head, sending the first curling warning of Lando’s orgasm down his spine.

“Make me,” Lando says childishly, and then Han _does_. He’s getting to be a real expert, knows how to kiss and suck and lick, knows when to make it sloppy with spit and pre-come, knows when to rub the wet length of Lando against his cheek, nuzzling him like a pleased animal. The room is filled with the wet, suctioning sound of saliva and skin. Han ducks down, lapping gently at Lando’s balls, before leaning back.

“Please,” he says, eyes downcast, like he’s suddenly embarrassed.

Lando knows what Han wants, but he wants to _hear_ it. He takes Han’s wet chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting the boy’s face up to see his eyes. “Tell me,” he says, not unkindly, “and it’s all yours.”

“On my face, Lando,” Han says, their eyes locked. “ _Pretty_ please.”

“So polite when you want to be,” Lando says, and takes his cock in hand, using Han’s spit and his own pre-come to smooth the way as he strokes his cock. It’s Han who pushes him over the edge—he licks his lips with a flash of pink tongue, like he can’t believe the feast laid before him, and Lando comes with a low groan, striping Han’s plush mouth and pink cheeks with white.

They both breathe heavily in the quiet room, Lando coming down from his orgasm and Han cresting towards his without even being touched. He’s scoring his short nails down his thighs.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Lando says, and sits heavily next to Han. Though he’s still sensitive and won’t be able to come again for at least an hour, he hauls Han into his lap, tugging the other man close. “Your turn, pretty boy.” He rubs at Han’s lower lip, smearing his own come across kiss-bruised flesh.

“Finally,” Han says, and they share a small, secret smile before meeting in a bruising kiss.


End file.
